For about twenty years or so, I have been gobbling up self help books. Ekhart Tolle, Tony Robbins, Jean Bolen, Wayne Dyer, to name a few of the authors. Just the other day I bought an old Wayne Dyer book called Real Magic. I love it. He such a great guy...out there in Maui writing his books and espousing his philosophies on Lao Tsu (Tao), Jesus, and guys like William Blake. He's always spoken to me and this time, he's making me understand and believe that miracles do happen.
They are very real and very everyday. You just have to go inside and meditate on them. On four or five pages of this book, he talks about how to meditate. I have always struggled with meditation. The fleeting thoughts that won't go away - the laundry gone undone, the cat walking on my lap as I try to sit in a meditative pose, what to eat, how much money is in my bank account, why did my mom say that, I'm hungry again?
Today, River got up three times during my morning meditation. I had finally gotten to that zen moment where you are supposed to get and the cat had managed to push River off her bed because Gabriel (the cat) loves to sleep on the overstated mattress that makes him look like a black furry pea in the middle. Just when I'd gotten to the white room where the magic was supposed to unfold, this occurred. I shooed him off, got River back on and told her to give me a few minutes with the Divine presence of the universal oversoul I was trying to tap into to get some questions answered. The movie, the money, the books...why am I here and what is my purpose? You know, the grand easy ones that come up all the time. You know the drill.
I guess I was expecting something else. But what I got was so overwhelming that I've decided to go out on a limb and describe it here.
Recently, my friend Patrice passed away from pancreatic cancer. Her son suffers from either bipolar or schizophrenia - I'm not sure which. He is residing in a homeless shelter as a last resort because he refuses to take medicine and get treatment. His family has tried everything...believe me, everything. So, he's lost his mom and seems relegated to spend his existence at this shelter.
Unfurls Patrice in my meditation. At first, it sort of scared me...then, I was just so glad to have a vibrant image of her that I began to weep. She held my hand and kept trying to turn on some cosmic light. Then as the meditation ensued I was given insight on what it was.
She's gone to the spirit world and is showing me that there is enough financial resources to do all that it is that I want to do as long as it is (as Wayne Dyer puts it) to serve others. The money will come first; the mission second. She was so worried about him before she died but now it is part and parcel of my mission, per se. This is what she was showing me...WOW!!!
I have bipolar disorder and have had two trips to the hospital in the course of twelve years. I understand. I also understand that the meditation brings what it is her son needs - medicine and help. He told me at her funeral through tears, "She'll never see my children." I hugged him and thought, well, maybe not from our physical plane; but this was not what he needed to hear. I felt then and feel now that some may have lost their hope for him...it has been going on for over five years. His resistance is painful.
So, while River snores away on the big mattress in the living room. I'm googling Glenn Close and her sister's site: http://www.bringchange2mind.org/ and also http://www.nami.org/... I was looking to see if there was a therapy dog link...I did not see one. But I know that there is something out there that perhaps caters to people with mental illness via the therapy dogs.
You know...I'm always trying to make a connection. Can't wait to see what another chapter of Wayne Dyer unfolds and what tomorrow's meditation might bring.
Let's make a movie, you guys. Let's help people with mental illness. Can't we do both...I mean, really, what else are we going to do?
River and Ruth
Here's a pic of River yesterday at the park. Happy dog!!!